The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 762: I Guess I’ll Have to Do It That Way (2)

The other mercenaries couldn’t use the metal rods. They weren’t able to withstand the recoil of the mana that surged through them.

“Hurry!”

Julien gritted his teeth and received a new metal rod from a companion. He stretched it out once more to block the advancing monsters.

KWA-A-A-A-AANG!

He couldn’t hold out for long. Only a few rods remained. And the more he used them, the more Julien’s stamina was being drained. He shouted toward the dwarves.

“Head to the royal fortress at once! All the dwarven warriors should be gathering there! If you fight here, you’ll only be slaughtered!”

“B-But...”

“It’s a royal command! His Majesty himself sent us!”

Julien deliberately lied. Because at this moment, action was more important than truth. Fortunately, the dwarves understood what he meant. They grasped the implication that fighting here was a meaningless death.

“You heard him! We’re heading to the fortress!”

“Gather the warriors and residents from all the settlements along the way! We have to fight together near the capital!”

“Don’t worry! You should retreat too!”

They immediately turned around. This was the outermost of the dwarven residential zones. If these dwarves persuaded the others, things could move faster.

KWAANG! KWAANG! KWA-A-AANG!

Julien stayed behind with the mercenaries, continuing to halt the advance of the enemy. The metal rods were now channeling even 7th-circle lightning spells. Ghislain was also pouring the mana he had accumulated over several days into the magic circle without hesitation. But the limits of the metal rods were clear. Julien and the mercenaries slowly retreated while conserving their spells. Their goal wasn’t victory—it was to buy as much time as possible.

The priest of the Salvation Order glared with fury in his eyes.

“Those bastards...”

Their plan had been simple: surprise the outskirts and reduce the number of dwarven warriors. But the plan went awry from the start. Some unknown group had shown up and started pouring out powerful magic, halting the advance. They hadn’t even managed to kill many dwarves. Before they could get close, the dwarves had all escaped. They gave chase as best they could, but the sudden bursts of magic had blocked them multiple times. The priest clenched his teeth. If not for those intruders, the dwarves in this region would’ve already been annihilated.

But the priest quickly calmed himself.

“It’s fine. This wasn’t our only target.”

Simultaneous surprise attacks were already unfolding all across Vallscrum. This was just one among them. Though they hadn’t inflicted serious damage, the confusion had already begun.

“Now that we’ve entered Vallscrum, victory is ours in the end.”

Even if the dwarves gathered, it wouldn’t matter. It would only prolong their futile resistance. Two prophets had come to this place, after all. The priest resumed his advance with the black mages. Their final destination was the royal fortress anyway.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Within the black smoke, hordes of undead and chimeras surged forward.

***

“Persistent bastards, aren’t they.”

The ruler of Vallscrum, guardian of the Iron Fortress, wielder of the Thunder Axe, master of the Twelve Workshops, father of hammers and warriors... Grondal, the king of the great dwarves who bore all those titles, was now leaning against his throne, drinking with a thoroughly annoyed expression.

He had heard the news that envoys from the Pope had arrived. He knew exactly why they had come. So he didn’t meet with them. No matter how many days they requested an audience, he refused. By now they should’ve taken the hint and left, but instead, they had rented out an entire lodging and settled in.

“Were humans always this dense? I thought they were a sharp-witted race.”

At his words, the other dwarves burst into laughter.

“From their point of view, leaving empty-handed must be hard.”

“If they go back with nothing, won’t the Pope kill them? They say they’re mercenaries, anyway.”

“If they’re mercenaries, all the easier to kill! The Pope must’ve just picked some random scoundrels to do the job!”

“Humans kill each other over things like titles and pride! Puhaha!”

The dwarves laughed raucously. Unlike humans, they spoke and laughed freely even in the presence of their king. That was the dwarven way. They acknowledged their king’s authority, but they never bowed in servitude.

Dwarves were a people of absolute pride. Unlike the elves, they adopted the concept of kings from the human system out of convenience—because a proper structure was necessary for progress and expansion.

As they laughed on, Grondal snorted.

“What did they say again? That the Salvation Order and black mages would attack this place?”

“Yes. They said even if we didn’t meet with them, we should at least muster all our warriors and stay on alert.”

“Typical humans. Thinking they’re something special and sticking their noses in everywhere. That’s why they’re always at war with each other.”

At Grondal’s words, the other dwarves chimed in.

“Just what do they take this Vallscrum for, saying crap like that. A human dares to worry about us?”

“How are those Salvation Order bastards supposed to attack this city without bringing a proper army out of the Demonic Realm?”

“They’ll probably collapse from exhaustion just climbing the mountain!”

“Bwahahaha! Yeah, this mountain’s too harsh for such frail creatures!”

The dwarves laughed heartily, mocking the Salvation Order and the Julien Mercenary Corps. And it made sense—they had boundless pride and confidence in their city, Vallscrum.

As they laughed and drank, suddenly, a dwarf burst through the door, practically kicking it down. Grondal belched and muttered,

“Buuurp... What’s this? Let’s try to have some manners, huh?”

Grondal, caught mid-drunken chatter, stopped speaking. The dwarf who came in looked utterly filthy.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“A-Attack! It’s an attack!”

“...A what?”

“An attack! The Salvation Order bastards have breached the fortress!”

Grondal sobered up instantly. Blinking rapidly, he asked,

“What are you saying?”

“B-Black mages and high-ranking priests of the Salvation Order are launching assaults all over! Chimera and undead are pouring in from the sky, and a giant sandworm broke through the ground! Monsters are flooding in through the hole it made!”

Grondal’s eyes widened in disbelief. So did the six other dwarves beside him. They had prepared well for air raids. Even if thousands of monsters attacked, they could hold them off. But to be attacked regardless? More unbelievable was the claim that something had tunneled through the ground. How the hell had they broken through that solid bedrock?

But now wasn’t the time to ask such questions. Judging by the look on the dwarf’s face, the situation was dire.

“Those bastards... how dare they...”

Grondal ground his teeth and grabbed the weapon beside him.

It was an enormous, lengthy halberd. He dragged the halberd, which was several times larger than his body, and stepped outside.

Outside the palace, chaos had erupted. Dwarves from all over and from other districts filled the streets, unsure of what was happening. Everyone looked lost in panic. None of them had ever imagined Vallscrum would be invaded.

Looking at his people, Grondal slammed the halberd down.

BOOOOOM!

A wave of massive energy spread out. All eyes turned to Grondal. Wearing a fierce expression, he roared,

“Pull yourselves together! If enemies are inside, then we fight! What’s the problem?!”

At those words, the dwarves began regaining their composure. Yeah—so what? Just fight. Their faces filled with determination again as they reached for their weapons.

Grondal barked out quickly,

“Spread the word! Muster all warriors! Evacuate the elderly and children from the residential zones!”

All dwarves were warriors. If they all gathered, they’d be a formidable force. Grondal was confident in that. But the next report was not good.

“They’re attacking the outer residential zones first!”

“They’ve attacked from all directions!”

“We need to send reinforcements immediately!”

Grondal’s eyes twitched. His thoughts began racing.

‘Those bastards... are they aiming to isolate and destroy us one by one?’

Defeating groups individually isn’t easy. If your forces are lacking, you could be wiped out in turn. But the fact they split their attack so widely meant...

‘There are superhuman-level high priests involved!’

If chimera and undead were pouring in, then it was obvious that multiple black mages were present. And if even one superhuman was among them, the damage would be unavoidable. The dwarves in residential areas where news hadn’t yet reached would fight without knowing the enemy’s strength—and die.

“We need to send reinforcements—”

Grondal stopped mid-sentence. What if this very reaction was what the enemy wanted? To aid the attacked areas, the warriors would have to be split and scattered. If a truly powerful force struck here while they were dispersed... If he died, the dwarven race itself would be doomed. The Eternal Forge and the Guardian Stone could fall into enemy hands—or be destroyed.

Realizing the weight of the situation, Grondal opened his eyes wide and declared,

“All warriors will stay here on standby! Send only a few messengers to the settlements—tell them to gather here at once!”

They must not be dragged along by the enemy’s strategy. Doing so would only lead to defeat.

Several dwarves nodded with grave expressions. They too understood how dire the situation was. Most of the outer settlements would be destroyed, and countless dwarves would die. But it couldn’t be helped. Even if they sacrificed those outposts, the warriors from the inner regions had to make it here.

Grondal pressed his forehead and quietly closed his eyes.

“...I underestimated those humans.”

The Julien Mercenary Corps had clearly warned them—that the Salvation Order would attack. But he, and every dwarf here, ignored that warning. Now he regretted it bitterly. He should’ve at least listened. Even if everyone else dismissed them, he shouldn’t have. A king must oversee all things.

In the end, dwarven arrogance had caused this disaster.

BOOM!

Grondal’s halberd slammed into the ground once more. He slowly opened his eyes and muttered,

“I will repay my mistake with my own blood.”

Even if it cost him his life, he would defend this fortress and save his kin. That was the last duty he bore as king.

Exuding a fierce aura, Grondal turned to a dwarf beside him and said,

“Bring me the Julien Mercenary Corps. With respect.”

They may have already fled. But if by some chance they were still here, he had to apologize for ignoring their warning. And if Vallscrum seemed doomed to fall... he would entrust them with the Guardian Stone and help them escape. Better that than letting it be destroyed or fall into the Salvation Order’s hands.

But before such thoughts even cleared his mind—

“Uwaaaaaaaah!”

The dwarves gathered at the capital let out a great cheer. Beyond the gates, dwarves were pouring in from all directions of Vallscrum.

Grondal looked bewildered. The dwarves from other regions were gathering far too quickly.

“W-What? Word already spread? How?”

It didn’t make sense. It was impossible to grasp the situation and mobilize this fast.

The dwarves coming in from all sides began shouting loudly.

“Shield of Durankaz! Bolum has arrived!”

“Iron Hammer of Brunan! Cordin is here!”

“We’ve all come by the king’s call to fight the enemy!”

Their numbers continued to swell. Each shouted the name of their origin as they raised their weapons.

To the confused onlookers, they explained once more:

“The Julien Mercenary Corps told us!”

“They’re holding off the enemy right now, buying us time!” 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

“They said to gather here! To fight beside the king against the enemy!”

Grondal felt as if a hammer had struck his chest. He had dismissed the Julien Mercenary Corps. Yet they did not give up—they bought time. He was ashamed. He had looked down on them in arrogance, not realizing what kind of people they were. His judgment had failed him.

Suddenly, Grondal began to laugh heartily.

“Hahahahaha! Yes! Amazing! Truly amazing, those bastards! No wonder the Pope sent them!”

It was truly remarkable. A mere mercenary corps had accomplished this much. He still didn’t know how they were holding the enemy back. But what mattered was that they had done it. That they had given hope.

Of course, not every region had responded. A glance showed that dwarves from certain directions were noticeably fewer in number. Only those closest to the capital had arrived. The Julien Mercenary Corps couldn’t cover every direction. The sparse ones had likely been wiped out—or were still fighting.

It couldn’t be helped. Even gathering this many was already a miracle.

‘What we must do now... is make sure this chance isn’t wasted.’

Grondal raised his voice loudly.

“Everyone, listen! The enemy is converging on this place! Today, the final battlefield shall open upon this land!”

The warriors held their breath and looked at Grondal.

BOOM!

Grondal slammed his halberd once again.

“Even if we all die, we will eliminate the invaders here! The Demonic Realm has already begun its expansion! But if we can buy time with our blood! Our brothers in other regions will be able to finish preparing for war!”

Ooooooooh...

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

From far away, the enemy horde was visible. Monsters advanced, crushing everything in their path. Fires blazed in all directions, and smoke blanketed the skies.

Grondal screamed with blood-throated fury.

“Flames are rising! Steel shall be forged in fire!”

At his cry, the dwarves roared in unison:

“Steel is tempered in flame!”

“Today is not our end!”

“We shall be reforged!”

One dwarf blacksmith raised a massive hammer and struck the anvil in the center of the fortress.

CLANG!

That sound was the signal. The dwarves took their positions, formed a defensive line, and slowly advanced forward.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

In time with the hammer blows of the forge, the dwarves stomped their feet. With each step, all of Vallscrum seemed to rumble in response.

Flames raged everywhere—but the fire in the dwarves’ eyes burned even hotter. Grondal looked upon them with pride. These warriors gathered °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° here would give their lives to crush the enemy. He stood tall and raised his head.

Shhhhhh...

A chilling darkness was gathering. It had arrived faster than any of the other foes. The pale mist-like darkness carried an overwhelming presence.

The moment Grondal saw it, he knew instinctively. That darkness—no other warrior here could face it. Only he could.

“I’ll be the one to kill you, you rotten bastard.”

Crack!

Grondal gripped his halberd tightly. As he gathered power, the ground trembled.

FWOOOOOSH!

The darkness took on a full form. A middle-aged man with a powerful aura stood there, clad in a black robe.

It was Tagmah, prophet of the Salvation Order. He raised his hand, and a blast of intense darkness surged toward Grondal. At the same moment, Grondal shot into the sky. The giant halberd he swung cleaved through the darkness in an instant.

KWA-A-A-A-AANG!